


foes to bros to hoes

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #hqbb2018, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Best Friends, Class Differences, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Familiars, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rivalry, Spells & Enchantments, Tokyo (City), Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: Oikawa’s eyes narrow."What’re you doing here?" The words leaving his mouth now are crystal clear in the silence, echoing against the tiled walls and no longer laced with surprise. Instead, a cold trickle of annoyance is taking shape, turning the tips of Oikawa’s fingers numb.Ushijima — as in the Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa’s childhood sworn arch nemesis — looks confused… but at Oikawa’s question rather than his presence. He holds up the Briarwine envelope in his hand."I’m a student," he answers matter-of-factly, his voice as blunt and monotone as ever.





	1. a familiar face

**Author's Note:**

> For HQBB!! 2018
> 
> Huge, huge thanks to my amazing beta Astrid ([@cupofkoushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofkoushi)), who was incredibly patient with me even though she has a million other things going on, including her own HQBB piece (which everyone needs to go read ASAP because she's a talented, beautiful writer) ♥︎ 
> 
> And please check out everyone's works (I'm blown away by everything I've seen/read so far) on the [HQBB blog](http://hqbb.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> Finally... long live the #oikawararepaircaptainsquad2018 ✌️

Oikawa sits and watches a faint breeze rustle the little slips of paper pinned to the train station wall a few feet away before it traces over his skin. It runs gentle fingers through his hair, whispers in his ear, smells of sea-salt.

 

     The crickets screech from the grass, the forests sway and sing, and moonlight coats every little detail in ashy silver. The train station platform sits like a sleeping beast of stone and wood amongst the green and sterling, nestled under an inky-black sky filled completely with burning stars.

 

     Oikawa leans back, a small smile on his lips as he waits. Nisshoku rests on the ground beside the bench, his large paws crossed over each other and his chin resting on them.

 

     The faint, frosted edge of a glamour ripples over the Northwestern black wolf’s fur, a simple spell that Oikawa had put on him before they had left home. Not that he had really needed to — it’s late enough that most of the small, seaside town is asleep. Oikawa and Nisshoku are the only two out here in the middle of the forest, waiting for the early morning train.

 

     "Sleepy, huh?" Oikawa whispers into the vivid night air, watching his familiar. Nisshoku doesn’t respond, just cracks open one golden eye to send Oikawa a look that spells out, _"If you had packed earlier, we could’ve caught the afternoon train."_

 

     Oikawa smirks, shakes his head and bends down to run fond fingers through Nisshoku’s dark fur. His familiar closes his eyes again, huffs in reluctant contentment.

 

_"This is it,"_ Oikawa thinks, still petting Nisshoku, excitement and anticipation fizzing in equal measure in his chest. _"Next stop, Tokyo."_

 

     Tokyo — a city Oikawa has only dreamed of his entire life. A city filled with magic.

 

     Out here, in his hometown, the magic is everywhere. It’s in the breeze, it curves shimmering between dark tree trunks and lays heavy on Oikawa’s tongue with a faint bitter edge, like iron. He’s felt it all his life, settling in between his bones the way it’s meant to.

 

     But Tokyo… Oikawa’s heard stories from other witches.

 

     He’s heard of the mysterious neon lights that bleed colors in the rain, that spark and shimmer and light up the magic lingering in dark corners. He’s heard of the clubs and bars with secret doors that only witches can access. He’s listened to tales of flying high above the city on humid summer nights, of meeting other creatures of the Arcane in corner stores, of practicing magic in parks where the trees whisper stories from long ago.

 

     Tokyo is bigger, is full of opportunity and chances to learn — and finally, at nineteen, Oikawa is going there to do just that.

 

     This summer his acceptance letter had arrived. He remembers the night it had — his older sister, Hana, had nearly set the house on fire in her excitement while flapping the glossy ebony envelope around. Oikawa had recognized the violet wax seal immediately.

 

_Briarwine Academy of Witchcraft and the Arcane_.

 

     It’s one of the most prestigious schools of magic in Tokyo. Hana herself had gone there before moving back home, as had their mother. And Oikawa has spent most of the summer pacing back and forth every afternoon, his heart skipping a beat every time a crow screeched outside, wondering if this was finally his moment.

 

     He’s not too bitter that Hana had been the one at home on the particular evening his letter had finally arrived — he wouldn’t have missed Iwaizumi’s monthly movie night anyway.

 

     No, all Oikawa had really felt after reading the words scrawled through the air in glowing sparks after he had opened the envelope had been relief. Relief and elation.

 

     Oikawa tilts his head back to look up at the night sky, a grin still gracing his lips.

 

_"Now it’s my turn,"_ he thinks.

 

 

 

The screech of metal on metal wakes Oikawa.

 

     His head snaps up and Nisshoku startles beside him — from the sudden movement or the sudden noise Oikawa isn’t sure.

 

     Oikawa blinks, the back of a train seat swimming into view and then a window streaked with rain as he looks to his right. Beyond the glass, the landscape has shifted from the thin shadows of telephone lines and the occasional clump of low-lying buildings in a small town — now large, hulking buildings crowd together, barely a sliver of space between them. Lights in dizzying colors jumble over the rain-soaked ground and blur in front of Oikawa’s eyes.

 

_"Tokyo,"_ Oikawa thinks, his stomach twisting suddenly. He’s here.

 

     He tears his eyes away from the sight before him to straighten up, grappling for one of his bags that’s slid off of the seat beside him into the floor. The floor beneath his shoes rumbles as the train eats up track and the heat of so many people crammed into such a small space pricks at Oikawa’s skin.

 

_"Shit, I must’ve dozed off,"_ is the second thought that runs through his head. His muscles ache from being in one position for too long and one side of his face is cold from resting against the window of the train.

 

     Regardless he’s conscious now and his train is slowing down as they pull into a station that suddenly materializes out of the curtain of rain, as fast as the city had. Oikawa vaguely recognizes the name of it from the ticket crumpled in the bottom of his coat pocket.

 

_"Get ready."_ Nisshoku’s voice comes to Oikawa’s mind like the familiar touch of a friend’s hand, like the cool billows of sea-salt air that sometimes gust off of the ocean back home. 

 

     Oikawa knows what his familiar means as soon as the words hum through his ears because the train is finally creaking and groaning to a complete stop — and as soon as it does, there’s a wave of movement. People crowd in a tight knot of cloying perfume and tired eyes and the buzz and artificial glow of cellphones, all of them moving towards the automatic doors with a communal sense of relief that the trip is over.

 

     Oikawa stays still, keeps one hand on top of his luggage and the other tangled in Nisshoku’s fur where the large, still-glamoured wolf is hunched at his feet, waiting for the crowd to clear. He’s never been around so many people at one time — the train must’ve filled up as he had slept, going from a quiet creak as the nearly-empty compartment rocked and swayed on the tracks to this, a cacophony of noises and faces and the occasional burst of laughter.

 

     Oikawa sits and waits and then he’s getting up, stretching out the kinks in sleep-stiff joints and piling out of his row with Nisshoku at his heels.

 

     As soon as he reaches the automatic glass door, a burst of chilled air rushes over his face, over his bare hands. The rain hushes against the side of the train, dripping in glittering trails down the sleek metal and pooling in oil-black puddles on the tracks. 

 

     Gone is the sting of sea-salt and the warm, almost muggy breeze from back home, replaced now with the tang of iron and the burn of exhaust that coats Oikawa’s tongue, framed by a bone-cold chill brought on by the rain. He shudders, tugs his coat farther around his body, grateful that he had thought to put it on.

 

     "Come on," he murmurs to Nisshoku, bumping his one suitcase over the edge of the platform, hiking his duffel bag farther up his shoulder. 

 

     Excitement sparks and flares in the pit of Oikawa’s stomach as the doors whoosh closed behind him, leaving him standing under an overhang that water drips from, the wind spitting rain onto the back of his neck until he moves farther into the shelter. 

 

     For a moment, Oikawa stands still and drinks it all in.

 

     People move like a chaotically-organized machine, winding around each other and bumping into the occasional stray elbow or purse, phones pressed to their ears as they shout to be heard over the fray. Steel and concrete unfurl and glint in the dingy fluorescent lighting, which is the sort of white that washes out everyone’s skin and highlights every little imperfection, every scratch mark and stain and stray piece of trash on the floor. The sun is setting behind Oikawa and the last glints of it set the silver of the trains to fire, outline people’s eyes in gold.

 

     And beneath it all… _magic_.

 

     Oikawa’s fingers twitch against the handle of his suitcase. Nisshoku stands silent and steady beside him.

 

     It’s there, humming under everything else. A gold string that stretches around corners, that twists and knots and pulls at something deep in Oikawa’s chest. Electricity that pulses faintly up through the concrete station platform and fills the air with a taste like something sweet that’s burning.

 

     Oikawa inhales sharply at how strong it is, how even just this small, dim feeling that’s crowded over by the mundane leaves the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

 

     And then he sees what he’s subconsciously been searching for since the train stopped.

 

     "There, do you see it?" Oikawa whispers to Nisshoku, eyes fixed on the set of stairs sitting outside of the chaos of the afternoon rush, a set of stairs that he _knows_ is the right way to go — not just because it was in the directions from Briarwine but because he can see it. He can see how the air around the top of them shimmers like heat on blacktop during the summer, can see how the fluorescent lights flare brighter in that specific corner, can see how everyone else averts their gazes and their steps whenever they get too close.

 

     He takes the first step forward.

 

 

 

The downward slope of the stairs eventually straighten out into what would look like an abandoned subway tunnel if it weren’t for the sparking, sputtering witch-lights placed at even intervals along the walls and the inlaid gold markings along the black marble floor.

 

     Nisshoku had huffed a little at Oikawa’s reckless dash down the last few steps, his suitcase bouncing dangerously behind him in his anticipation, but now that they’re down here, both of them are silent at the sight that greets them.

 

     "Wow," Oikawa barely gets out. Ever-shifting light spills from the torches in colors Oikawa can’t think to name, turns Nisshoku’s dark fur effervescent. Briarwine’s crest — a crown intertwined with viola mandshurica — gleams from the gold emblems etched into the ground.

 

_"This is where we wait for the train,"_ Nisshoku says, golden eyes peering up and down the dark tracks over to the left, submerged in a trench of concrete.

 

     It’s not a question but Oikawa sets his bag down and fishes through the top of it until he finds the ebony envelope, glossed over as if by a sheet of glass.

 

     It catches the witch-light and throws sparks in deep violet and burning white and dusky rose over Oikawa’s hands as he opens it to read the elegant scrawl inside.

 

     "Yeah," he murmurs. "This is one of the stations that goes to the school for new students. Apparently there’s also a spot in Ueno Park that first-years can use to get to Briarwine, but it doesn’t say how…"

 

     Nisshoku shakes his large head. _"Let’s play it safe and wait for the train. Besides, this glamour is starting to get itchy."_

 

     "Ah, sorry." Oikawa mutters a few familiar words under his breath and a second later, the shine over Nisshoku’s fur is gone.

 

_"Thanks,"_ Nisshoku hums and then there’s silence apart from the faint trickle of water somewhere deep within the train tunnel and the distant rumble of the outside, mundane world. Oikawa stuffs his envelope back in his bag and fidgets, tugging his coat close again against a damp draft that leaves the witch-lights sputtering. 

 

     His thoughts keep spinning as they wait. What will Briarwine look like in person after everything he’s heard from Hana? Who will he meet there? What’s his first class tomorrow morning?

 

     Also, why are he and Nisshoku the only two down here? Shouldn’t there be other students waiting for the train to Briarwine?

 

_"It’s because you procrastinated leaving until right before first term starts,"_ Nisshoku half-laughs, catching hold of Oikawa’s loose threads of wondering and answering his last question. _"All of the other new students must’ve arrived at least a week ago already."_

 

     Oikawa rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Nisshoku’s nagging and sits down on top of his duffel — which mostly contains clothes — tapping his sneakers against the polished marble beneath the scuffed tips. 

 

     "Yeah, yeah, I know, thanks Mom," he quips back and Nisshoku butts his head into Oikawa’s arm in response.

 

     More silence drips by as they sit in companionable silence. Oikawa finds himself thinking of home for a minute, of his family’s house nestled in all of that green with his mother’s plants growing over every available surface outside and his father’s books stacked high in the living room. He thinks of what Hana must be doing right now — tending to Takeru probably or writing up in the tiny greenhouse their mother had somehow enchanted to fit perfectly on the roof, tea by her elbow.

 

     He looks around, rubs his arms to warm them up. Here it’s all metal and marble and noise — the ping of drops of water in the dark and the rush of wind around the bodies of trains and the shivering touch of magic beating like a second heart underneath it all.

 

     It’s all so new… and yet Oikawa is already in love with it all. The power and history of magic here sends sparks through his blood, rests sugar-sweet and intoxicating on his tongue, and the city beyond this train station tugs at him, begs him to -

 

     The sound of footsteps behind Oikawa and Nisshoku breaks through Oikawa’s thoughts and he turns at the same time that his familiar does, getting to his feet as two figures slowly materialize near the foot of the stairs. 

 

_"Another student,"_ Oikawa thinks.

 

     And then two things happen at once.

 

     Behind him, the wind in the train tunnel suddenly flares, grows larger in a short span of time, the sound of it wailing through the tight space and ruffling his hair, followed by the screech of metal on metal. The train is here.

 

     And in front of him… Oikawa freezes, gaping, one large shock running up the length of his spine.

 

     Because suddenly, not everything from home is so far away — and Oikawa is not so in love with this new situation anymore.

 

     Ushijima Wakatoshi stands amongst the ragged gold and silver of the witch-lights, a grand golden eagle perched on his shoulder… and a glossy, ebony envelope with a violet seal in his hand.


	2. a new enemy

"You’ve got to be fucki-," Oikawa starts… just as a shrill whistle tears through the air behind his head, drowning out his shell-shocked voice. Nisshoku wraps around his legs.

 

     At the same moment, the eagle on Ushijima’s shoulder flaps its wings, gilt feathers gleaming like oil in the play of light and damp in the tunnel.

 

     Oikawa’s eyes narrow.

 

     "What’re you doing here?" The words leaving his mouth now are crystal clear in the silence, echoing against the tiled walls and no longer laced with surprise. Instead, a cold trickle of annoyance is taking shape, turning the tips of Oikawa’s fingers numb.

 

     Ushijima — as in _the_ Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa’s childhood sworn arch nemesis — looks confused… but at Oikawa’s question rather than his presence. He holds up the Briarwine envelope in his hand.

 

     "I’m a student," he answers matter-of-factly, his voice as blunt and monotone as ever.

 

     The irritation bubbles up in Oikawa’s chest. Nisshoku is silent in his head, too busy having a staring contest with Zinnia, Ushijima’s familiar.

 

     "I didn’t mean…," Oikawa tries to respond, but he trails off. He can’t really argue against Ushijima’s answer, as annoying as that is. 

 

     Instead, he settles for huffing and turning back around towards the train that’s pulled into the station, thoughts still spinning.

 

_"Why??"_ Nisshoku finally laments, but Oikawa can only grab his bags and settle for the little satisfaction over boarding the train first, his sworn enemy left behind him.

 

 

 

The train to Briarwine moves as smooth as water over silk.

 

     The white floors are spotless — unlike the walls, which hold years of graffitied names, some crawling over the sleek surface, others glimmering like fireworks.

 

     Oikawa watches as a _Shimizu Kiyoko_ folds itself into the shape of a delicate flower before bursting into dust and coming back together again to write _Yachi Hitoka_ and then repeat.

 

     It’s a pathetic attempt to distract himself from the elephant in the room.

 

     Ushijima sits a few rows ahead of him despite Oikawa’s fervent wishes for him to choose a different compartment. Zinnia keeps peering back at them with beady, black eyes so Oikawa sticks his tongue out at her, smiling a little as she squawks in indignation, feathers swelling in ruffled annoyance.

 

_"At least we aren’t the only passengers,"_ Oikawa thinks sullenly once the carriage has quieted down again. Two other boys had shown up right before the train had pulled out, both of them breathless and disheveled.

 

     They had piled onto the train in a flurry of luggage and familiars, the boy with oddly-colored sterling hair nearly in tears from laughing and the other taller, dark-haired one spewing an impressive range of profanities. Oikawa had caught a few snatches of their conversation — something about a bet and the name "Kei" — and now the two of them are crowded in the rear of this compartment, huddled close together and whispering.

 

     A bright-yellow, horned snake curves around the silver-haired witch’s shoulders, seeming just as interested in Oikawa as Zinnia is and Oikawa shivers, turning back around even though the weight of its cold, reptilian eyes continues to tickle at the back of his neck.

 

     The train continues to sweep through the shadows outside the windows, cutting through pitch-black like a silver knife.

 

     Oikawa settles in his cushioned-chair, tries to force his muscles to relax and loosen, running a cold hand over the crushed velvet beneath him.

 

     This isn’t at _all_ how he had expected this trip to turn out.

 

_"It’s just Wakatoshi,"_ Nisshoku rumbles. _"It’s Zinnia you have to watch out for with those nasty claws and creepy eyes."_

 

     Oikawa snorts in equal measures indignation and amusement.

 

_"I’m sure she says the same about you,"_ he thinks and Nisshoku snaps half-heartedly at one of Oikawa’s legs in response.

 

_"What’re they doing here anyway?"_ Oikawa can’t help but continue his questions from earlier, almost hoping that he’ll wake up still on the train to Tokyo, all of this some nightmarish joke.

 

     Nisshoku sniffs and lays his head down on his paws, eyes like the far-off glow of streetlights on a dark road.

 

_"Like he said, he’s a student."_

 

_"Yeah, but…"_ Oikawa can’t help but trail off once more.

 

     But what?

 

     Maybe, but why had he not known sooner?

 

     Or, but why had fate allowed them to travel on the same day? Briarwine is large enough that Oikawa might have gone weeks, months even, not knowing what he does now.

 

_"Ugh,"_ he groans once more and then he closes his eyes and lets the rush of the walls and ground all around him sweep his questions away.

 

 

 

The entire ride to Briarwine — which stretches out into a good forty-five minutes — is in darkness. The view from the windows never changes, just stays the consistent black of whatever tunnel they’re in.

 

     Eventually, even the quiet murmuring of the two boys in the back stops, leaving the passengers in a silence that’s broken only by the rush of air around the metal and glass of the train.

 

     Oikawa gets the feeling of being underwater, of being miles down in a large, cold lake with tons of icy water pressing down onto his head, and shudders, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. He’s never done well with small spaces and while this train is more spacious than the average one, the darkness is starting to get to him by the time the scenery changes.

 

     It comes in one, sudden burst of color. 

 

     One second the train is swooping through shadows, and the next Oikawa’s reflection in the window is replaced with nothing but brightness.

 

_"Are we here?"_ he thinks, straightening up quickly, blinking to clear his vision. His heart gives one solid thump in his chest in anticipation.

 

     And when the spots clear from in front of his eyes… Oikawa inhales sharply, disbelief and wonder welling up inside him.

 

     They’re still underground, that much is clear from the walls of rock that encircle the space the train has rushed into — but it’s as if a giant had stuck a hand into the ground and scooped out a portion the size of a small town, leaving this clearing behind. Plush, green lawns roll out in every direction, dotted with small buildings at regular intervals and what look like gardens of all shapes and sizes and other odd architectural assortments. Lights, like the ones in the train station from before, hover all through the air, lighting up the shadowy shapes of what must be students, tons of them, milling about on the grounds. 

 

     Oikawa blinks as one of the witch-lights zooms up to his window, floating there like a will-o-the-wisp before it darts away happily.

 

     But it’s the structure in the middle of it all that really soaks up attention.

 

     A castle — because that’s all Oikawa can think to call a structure of that size — made of what looks like dark stone and metal unfurls at the center, large and towering, with huge windows that warm light spills out of onto the grass below. It rises up and up and up and only then, as Oikawa cranes his head back to follow it, does he realize how high up this cave goes and -

 

     "Holy shit," he murmurs when his starstruck gaze finally hits the top. An entire _city_ hovers up there at that unimaginable height, filled with skyscrapers and cars whizzing by over what looks like nothing but air, the night sky in the background — almost as if that same giant had forged a huge sheet of glass and placed it over the top of everything, protecting his village down below.

 

     "Is that -," Oikawa starts out loud, remembering Hana’s stories but still not quite believing them.

 

     "Tokyo?" a voice says from over his shoulder, riddled with amusement. "Yeah, it is."

 

     Oikawa turns sharply… only to come face-to-face with dark, cold, reptilian eyes.

 

     Nisshoku growls but the horned snake is retreating before then, slithering inside the silver-haired witch’s shirt, as if frightened itself by Oikawa’s sudden gaze.

 

     "Sorry," the boy laughs, his companion close behind him, leaning with one hip against the seats opposite Oikawa. A white bat with thick, leathery wings hangs upside down on the dark-haired boy’s coat, claws tucked into a breast pocket. 

 

     The first witch keeps talking. "Slange is a little shy with strangers."

 

     "Slange," Oikawa repeats, the word tickling some far-off memory in his head. "Isn’t that just Danish for 'snake'?" His mother had been very adamant about teaching him other languages back during his homeschooling days. _"There’s more than one way to cast a spell,"_ she always told him. _"And some languages are more effective than others."_

 

     The other boy, the one with gunmetal blue eyes, snorts. "One point, Kou."

 

     Kou — or whatever his name is — sighs. "Fine," he concedes, but to what Oikawa doesn’t know. He doesn’t ask.

 

     At that moment the train begins to shudder to a stop and Oikawa stands up, gathering his belongings. Right now, even with Ushijima just a few feet ahead of him, everything seems full of possibility. 

 

     In fact, there’s no way he’s going to let such a small, insignificant glitch like Ushijima going to the same school ruin today for him. 

 

_"That’s because you already sulked for the entire ride here,"_ Nisshoku reminds him but Oikawa is too busy following "Kou" and "One Point" down the aisle as the doors open and pretends he doesn’t hear him. Ushijima’s broad shoulders are already exiting through the door of their compartment up ahead.

 

     Outside, Oikawa sees that the train has pulled into yet another sort of station — only this time it’s merely a platform with a thin, metal roof and more torches burning in brackets, both sides completely open so that Oikawa can see the lawns beyond and farther on, the shadowy shape of the school.

 

     Between him and that, however, is a small knot of students that must’ve boarded other parts of the train before Oikawa had gotten on at Yokohama Station. Ushijima and the other two in Oikawa’s area are huddled close to them, shuffling in the slight chill in the air.

 

_"We’ll look highly anti-social if we just stand over here and wait."_

 

     Oikawa sighs. Nisshoku’s right.

 

     The boy with the bat familiar peers over at them as they meander over, his messy black hair mussed farther by the breeze that whistles over the platform. He nods his head, inviting Oikawa to step closer to him and his friend, and then sticks out a hand once Oikawa is within range.

 

     "I’m Akaashi Keiji." The bat on his coat stretches and yawns, cracking open a single silver eye at the sound of Akaashi’s voice. "And this is Sugawara Koushi."

 

     Sugawara turns at the mention, smiling and stroking two fingers over his snake’s head, the reptile’s eyes narrowing in contentment. "And you already know Slange," he adds, laughing a little at himself as if he’s made a particularly good joke.

 

     Akaashi rolls his eyes, but it’s fond instead of exasperated.

 

     "Oikawa Tooru," Oikawa introduces himself, pointing down to Nisshoku after. "And this is Nisshoku."

 

     "Solar eclipse, huh?" Sugawara asks, teasing. "And I thought I was the least original."

 

     Oikawa smirks, shrugging. "I mean, at least my name doesn’t just mean 'wolf’," he jabs back and Akaashi smothers a smile in his homemade scarf. It’s easy to warm up to these two and Oikawa’s grateful. 

 

     Meanwhile, Ushijima is engaged in conversation with a witch Oikawa doesn’t recognize, a boy with a thin face and thick, dark bangs that sweep over his pale forehead. As if sensing Oikawa’s gaze, the stranger’s eyes slide over to rest on Oikawa and his small huddle.

 

     Oikawa looks away, rubbing cold hands together. The last thing he needs is for Ushijima to come over here and unearth their entire history with each other in front of all of the other new students. Just thinking about it sends the first shivers of anger over his skin — a faint memory of Ushijima’s voice echoing in his ears dances nearby but Oikawa pushes it away.

 

     "So," he asks, to keep himself occupied, "are we waiting here for horse-drawn carriages or something?"

 

     Akaashi shrugs. "One of the older students was here a second ago. She said someone would be coming to lead us in in a few minutes."

 

     And as if summoned by Akaashi’s words, there’s a sudden _pop_ of blue light a few feet in front of the group of students. A few witches jump, yelping in surprise, all other conversations dying down to a low hush that ripples across the station.

 

     When the blue smoke clears, a woman with chin-length black hair and glasses that glint in the witch-light stands before them. She’s wearing simple black jeans and a hideous, lumpy sweater, but her face is what Oikawa admits is "textbook beautiful". An industrial gleams from her right ear where her hair is tucked back.

 

     A hush falls over the knot of students at the sight.

 

     "Good evening," the woman speaks and although her voice is soft, it carries above the breeze with a solidness that crushes any idea of interrupting her. "Welcome to Briarwine Academy of Witchcraft and the Arcane. I hope you all had a pleasant trip."

 

     She glances around, as if waiting for someone to disagree, and then continues.

 

     "My name is Professor Kiyoko Shimizu. I teach many of the beginning classes for fire witches. If no one objects, could I please see a count of hands for any fire witches in the group?"

 

     Oikawa looks around curiously, along with every other student who isn’t a fire witch, spotting a few tentative hands poking up at the head of the crowd and then realizing with a start that Sugawara’s hand is also in the air.

 

     Slange hisses at the weight of more than one gaze, ducking his head back into the collar of Sugawara’s shirt.

 

     Kiyoko looks pleased, nodding her head a little, a soft smile playing at her lips. "I look forward to meeting you all in person later. As for right now, however, please follow me in a line and we’ll make it up to the school in time for dinner. You can leave your luggage in a pile here, it will be taken to your rooms by the staff."

 

     As if on cue, Oikawa’s stomach gives a light rumble and he remembers that he hasn’t eaten since the limp sandwich he had purchased on the train from home to Tokyo. He carefully sets his duffel and suitcase in the corner with everyone else’s belongings, sliding his cellphone into his jeans pocket — it had buzzed a few times on the way here, no doubt messages from his family.

 

     "Thank goodness," he thinks he hears Sugawara mutter. "I’m starving."

 

     Eager to please their new teacher, the crowd of students quickly rearranges into a slightly crooked but mostly straight line. Oikawa ends up getting wedged between Akaashi at his back and Sugawara in front of him, Slange peering out from the shadows of the neck of Sugawara’s coat at him.

 

     Curious, Oikawa turns around to Akaashi. "What kind of witch are you?" he asks, realizing how blunt the sentence sounds once it’s out of his mouth. Normally a witch would offer up the information on their own — it’s been centuries since the War of Seven but the wounds of the past, the rifts and rivalries that had sprung between different witch factions, had run deep and Oikawa has been raised to know that openly asking can sometimes be considered rude.

 

     Regardless, Akaashi answers easily. "Nature, you?"

 

     "Astrological." Oikawa’s voice is proud, boasting even, if he admits it to himself. Both Hana and his mother are the same and they had been overjoyed when he had chosen the same path on his eleventh birthday. 

 

     He remembers that day — the burn of the stars in the sky above his head and the stretch and pull of magic in his young hands.

 

     Akaashi raises one dark eyebrow at the gloat in Oikawa’s voice but Oikawa just winks at him and turns back around.

 

     The line is moving, a steady pace forward as Professor Kiyoko leads them down a set of stone stairs built into the train platform and then across a flagstone pathway that cuts through the first of the school lawns.

 

     Nisshoku pads next to Oikawa, alternating between sniffing at the witch-lights that float nearby and the grass that sways in the mysterious underground breeze. Other students, older witches, respectfully part to make room for the stumbling line of newbies, whispering amongst themselves and giggling as they pass by.

 

     Oikawa doesn’t mind all of the attention but he’s too busy trying to drink in the grounds of Briarwine from up close to pay too much attention to his new classmates. It’s beautiful out here, with Tokyo swirling overhead like a night sky built of steel and neon colors. 

 

_"The stories Hana and Nia told us didn’t even come close to describing this,"_ he thinks, listening to the faint sound of a gurgling fountain through the dusky air and watching the dark shape of a bird swoop through the air above the students’ heads — someone’s familiar no doubt. 

 

     His sister and Nia, the snow leopard always by her side, had tried to put Briarwine into words but now Oikawa can see why it would be hard to. There’re no words he can think of in any language to accurately describe all of this.

 

     Briarwine rises up before them, steadily getting larger as Professor Kiyoko leads them around the smaller outbuildings and greenhouses. The crowds of former students begin to grow thicker, the murmur of voices intertwined with the different noises of familiars and the shrieks of old friends seeing each other after a long summer break. 

 

     And finally, the line of new students is climbing the front stairs to the school, nervously fidgeting the moment they stop in front of two large wrought-iron doors.

 

     "Damn." Akaashi whistles long and slow behind Oikawa and Sugawara turns towards the noise. "Those are some heavy-looking doors."

 

     Oikawa agrees silently. The iron is interspersed with locks and each door is thick and tall, decorated with murals of what must be the school’s history.

 

     But as the three of them watch, the doors swing open on their hinges smoothly. Professor Kiyoko turns around, her glasses catching the warm light from inside and glinting.

 

     "Dinner will be held in fifteen minutes, so if any of you need to use the bathroom or want to catch up with siblings and friends, go on ahead. If you get lost, don’t hesitate to ask one of the statues or another student. The dining hall is straight down the entrance hall, at the very end."

 

     As soon as she’s done speaking, a great sooty grey falcon swoops down from the sky, the white of its wing lining flashing as it lands neatly on Professor Kumiko’s shoulder, and then she’s turning to march into the school.

 

     The line of new students breaks apart — some of them run back down the stairs and onto the lawns, calling out for older friends or family members, while a few trail tentatively after Professor Kumiko to the dining hall. Oikawa turns to his two new acquaintances, fingers tangled in Nisshoku’s fur.

 

     "Anyone down for exploring?" he asks. He’s itching to see as much of Briarwine as he can in fifteen minutes and he can’t decide whether to go back out onto the lawns or inside first.

 

     But before Sugawara or Akaashi can speak, a new, different voice floats into the center of their group.

 

     "You must be Oikawa Tooru," it says, and Oikawa turns around slowly. There’s something about the pronunciation of his name that sets his teeth on edge. He hears Akaashi murmur something in a low voice to Sugawara right before his eyes land on the figure behind him.

 

     It’s the boy who had been talking to Ushijima earlier and his eyes are just as cold and dark as Slange’s.

 

     And behind him is none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.


	3. a dark premonition

"You’re going to break that."

 

     Oikawa doesn’t pay any attention to Akaashi’s warning, just keeps on angrily plucking at the loose thread holding a button to the pillow in his lap.

 

     Sugawara hangs upside down from his bed across the room, watching silently.

 

     It’s after dinner and Oikawa is currently in Akaashi and Sugawara’s shared dorm, which just so happens to be down a narrow flight of stairs from his own. Somehow — in a stroke of luck that must’ve been the universe taking pity on his shitty day — Oikawa had ended up with a single all to himself. Nisshoku is currently splayed upstairs over his bed, fast asleep.

 

     But Oikawa has too much pent up energy to even dream of turning in right now.

 

_"I’m Daishō Suguru."_

 

     The drawl of the words from before echoes again in Oikawa’s ears. He plucks particularly hard at the string and it snaps, the button falling and then bouncing across the floor. Akaashi sighs.

 

     "So are you going to tell us what all of that was about before dinner?" Sugawara finally speaks, Slange curling over his hands. Both his and Akaashi’s gazes are half-sympathetic and half-curious, but also expectant, waiting for Oikawa to spill the beans.

 

     Oikawa can’t blame them.

 

     Outside the window that he’s closest to, rain has started to fall outside, drizzling down the school’s crown glass windows and dark stone walls. It blurs the scenery outside, warping the lawns and witch-lights into a mess of silver and green and shadows. Up higher, the lights of Tokyo smudge and run in watercolors.

 

     "Ushijima," Oikawa begins, the name catching in his throat, "is an old… acquaintance."

 

     " _Acquaintance_ ," Sugawara scoffs. "You looked ready to rip his eyes out and use them as coat buttons before."

 

     Akaashi nods in grim agreement.

 

     Oikawa sighs, long and suffering, and flops backwards onto Akaashi’s bed, ignoring the other witch’s yelp of surprise. He buries his face into the broken pillow in his arms.

 

     "That’s because I _was_ ready to rip his eyes out," he groans. The words get lost somewhere between his mouth and the faded upholstery but Sugawara and Akaashi hear enough to get the gist.

 

     Akaashi whistles, like he had outside. "Damn. I’ve heard of 'arch-enemies' in stories and shit but I’ve never actually seen it in the flesh."

 

     Oikawa winces. The word "arch-enemies" sounds so stupid out loud… even though he himself had been muttering it all throughout dinner.

 

     "He just…," he starts again. But he stops.

 

     How is he supposed to explain years of built-up dislike in a concise way? 

 

     How is he supposed to make Akaashi and Sugawara feel the same burning resentment he has for Ushijima?

 

     Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut. Unbidden, the conversation from outside springs back into his mind.

 

 

 

_"I’m Daishō Suguru."_

 

_Oikawa stares at the slender, pale hand held out towards him and then back at Ushijima, who looks oddly strained._

 

_He shakes it. Daishō’s fingers are warm and firm, the handshake — Oikawa thinks — of someone used to socializing with important people at big parties, of lying between his teeth and keeping up appearances._

 

_"So," Daishō says once he’s let go of Oikawa’s hand, "you and Wakatoshi go back do you?"_

 

_Oikawa smirks at the direct cut to the chase. He’s certain that this new, annoying witch also knows Ushijima already, which can only mean one thing. Nisshoku’s firm body presses to the side of Oikawa’s legs, his eyes challenging and hackles raised, his irritation mingling with Oikawa’s dry amusement._

 

_"Yeah," he answers, eyes flicking back to Ushijima again, "something like that. It looks like you do too." He’s painfully aware of Akaashi and Sugawara standing off to the side, their eyes watching the exchange like a sort of interesting, peculiar tennis match._

 

_Ushijima opens his mouth then, but Daishō speaks first._

 

_"Yeah," he mimics, "something like that. Wakatoshi’s family and mine have been close for a while. Long enough that I’ve heard more than enough about your family and its… history."_

 

_'There it is,’ Oikawa thinks with a sort of viciousness. He can’t help but smile, the expression twisting his mouth into something cruel and sharp as he meets Ushijima’s eyes over Daishō’s shoulder. Nisshoku snarls, low and guttural, his fur bristling._

 

_Ushijima’s shoulders sag, his eyes closing off like shutters over a window. Defeat and then resignation flit in quick succession over his face, followed by the slightest bit of guilt._

 

_Oikawa ignores all of it._

 

_Daishō meanwhile, is turning away, face flashing with a sort of triumph that sets Oikawa’s blood to fire._

 

_"It was interesting to finally meet you. See you at dinner," he calls over his shoulder, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the school before Oikawa can punch him in the face._

 

_Ushijima stands alone, facing Oikawa, but when he looks back at him, Oikawa turns away, something sour pooling in his stomach. Exhaustion tugs at his heart._

 

_"Ready?" he asks Akaashi and Sugawara, whose eyes are still traveling between him and Ushijima, uncertainty clear in their stances._

 

_"Um, sure," Akaashi answers finally. He places a light hand at Sugawara’s back and the two start to descend the stairs back onto the lawns, thankfully moving away from Ushijima._

 

_Oikawa pauses then, before following them. He turns back to Ushijima, who’s still standing silent and unmoving._

 

_"Whatever you expect of me here, whatever rumors you want to spread in lieu of your family," he says, low and steady, "leave me out of it this time. Or I swear you’ll regret it."_

 

_"I didn’t -," Ushijima finally speaks, hands curling at his sides, but Oikawa turns and walks away, heart thumping hard in his chest._

 

 

 

"Sooooo…"

 

     Akaashi’s voice filters back into Oikawa’s thoughts, along with the patter of rain outside. Sugawara has lifted himself up to sit cross-legged on his bed, face oddly serious.

 

     Oikawa sits up as well. His clothes are wrinkled from traveling all day and he’s tired. The words he had been searching before come easy now.

 

     "Ushijima Wakatoshi is from a long line of shadow witches," he starts. The room is silent and Oikawa keeps his gaze on the polished, hardwood floors as he continues. 

 

     "His family and mine are from the same town and let’s just say that they’re much better off than we are. Them and families like Daishō Suguru’s. They come from old money and to top all that off, my father is a non-witch."

 

     Sugawara inhales sharply at that and Oikawa laughs at the shocked look on his face, even though the noise comes out more bitter than genuine.

 

     "I know, I know. The Clave doesn’t support it but they can’t really do much about it, right? Not since the new law passed. Still, my mother’s kept it mostly under wraps for our entire lives… until the Ushijimas found out. Since then, they’ve delighted in holding it over my family’s heads."

 

     After the last sentence leaves Oikawa’s mouth, silence descends once more on the three of them.

 

     His heart beats hard and heavy in his chest, remembering little pricks and snubs from the past — remembering that night that Ushijima Wakatoshi himself had failed all of Oikawa’s expectations that he might be different from the rest, a bright spot inside all of that corrupted rot. He maintains eye contact with Sugawara, as if daring the other to say something, his big secret finally out in the open in front of his new friends.

 

     "There’re a lot of things the Clave doesn’t support."

 

     Oikawa’s head snaps towards Akaashi’s voice just in time to see him share a long, unreadable look with Sugawara. Sugawara smiles, but it’s faint and weak and Oikawa looks away again. The feeling that he’s encroaching on something personal between the two wells up somewhere deep inside him.

 

     "Yeah." Sugawara’s voice is steady but cold. "But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong. Oikawa, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but Akaashi and I aren’t prejudiced. We don’t care if your father is a non-witch."

 

     Oikawa looks over again. Somewhere he had been subconsciously holding his breath, he realizes. He had been waiting for these two to cast him out, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He had been waiting to defend himself.

 

     Now though, sitting here on Akaashi’s bed with both of their eyes on him, his fears are put to rest and the tightness in his limbs, the urge to fight for his family, fades. 

 

     "Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you two would…"

 

     The words die on Oikawa’s lips. That’s exactly what he had been preparing for, actually. But no one says anything to call him out on his lie.

 

     "Well," Sugawara claps his hands together, "I think it’s time for bed. We all have the same class tomorrow morning, right?"

 

     Oikawa smiles and nods. They had compared schedules at dinner, which had been a whirlwind affair of food, chatter, a brief speech by the sweating, nervous president of the school, and a dazzling performance of enchanted plants performed by the school’s horticulture club. Oikawa had barely kept up with any of it.

 

     Akaashi laughs lightly. "Always the responsible one."

 

     "Hey, I need my beauty sleep. You think this face looks like this just by luck?" Sugawara throws himself backwards, snuggling under his covers and smirking.

 

     Neither Oikawa or Akaashi know what to say to that as they exchange looks, so Oikawa stands and stretches, his bones popping. "See you guys tomorrow," he says brightly, his voice a lot more energized than he feels. "Be prepared to be upstaged tomorrow in _Beginner’s Yoga_."

 

     Akaashi shakes his head, toeing off his shoes onto the large black rug that stretches between his and Suga’s beds. "I believe it’s called _Mindfulness for Beginning Spellcasting_ ," he corrects, grinning.

 

     "Yeah, so beginner’s yoga," Oikawa defends and Sugawara snorts from somewhere down in the depths of his mattress.

 

     "Whatever. Goodnight, Tooru," Akaashi mutters, rolling his eyes.

 

     Oikawa leaves their room, still grinning, shutting the small, rickety door behind him. He’s standing on the narrow flight of stone steps that climb in a spiral around the tower they’re in to his room, but he pauses before going up, staring out of the skinny window set into the opposite wall.

 

     Something in his thoughts picks and plucks at him, nagging.

 

     The rain continues to drip and slither down the school’s exterior. Unbidden, Ushijima’s face comes back to him from those moments on the steps. 

 

_"I didn’t -"_

 

     Didn’t what? Oikawa lets his forehead thump softly against the thick pane of glass, shivers at the cold that trails down his spine. The past, from back home, tries to intrude on his thoughts, but Oikawa is honestly too tired to dwell on it.

 

     Who would’ve thought that the first day at Briarwine would have included just as many bad pieces as good? Being here is still mind-numbing, and meeting Akaashi and Sugawara had been pleasantly unexpected. 

 

     But Daishō’s words and Ushijima’s silence have left a bad taste in Oikawa’s mouth, like a thin layer of mold over a slice of cake he had been looking forward to eating.

 

     Oikawa sighs — and then he begins the climb up to his room, ready to drop into his bed and let the rain wash away the day.

 

 

 

_3 weeks later…_

 

"Keiji, Koushi, please save me."

 

     Oikawa sighs from where he’s flat on his back on the ground, staring up at the play of light cloud cover and Tokyo activity above him.

 

_"Tooru, you’re almost finished,"_ Nisshoku grumbles in his head at the same time that Koushi kicks lightly at his ankle from his perch on a cushioned bench. Keiji and Lucy, his familiar, turn twin sympathetic gazes onto Oikawa’s form sprawled over the rug.

 

     The three of them — along with Nissshoku, Slange, and Lucy — are out on the grounds of Briarwine, occupying one of the several heated bubbles that the instructors had summoned a week before to place outside. The weather, as they hurtle closer to October, has started frosting the windows in the middle of the night, leaving behind delicate cobwebs of ice and turning the greenhouses into hulking, white shapes.

 

     Everything is black and silver, like the old photographs that Oikawa’s mother keeps on the walls of their house.

 

     Oikawa sits up, comfortably warm and therefore sleepy and in no mood to do homework. The transparent bubble is big enough to fit a sizable rug and cushioned bench seats and the professors had made sure to make the decorations bright, little pops of color out here amongst the hoarfrost and the silver coin of the one icy lake Briarwine had.

 

     Oikawa almost can’t believe it’s been nearly a month since he had started school, but the weeks have undoubtedly flown past. They’ve been filled with new classmates and long lectures and practicing magic up in the training arenas at the very top of the school.

 

     The training spaces had blown him away the first time he had seen them. They aren’t just at the top of the school, where it erupts up into Tokyo, disguised as a large corporate building in the middle of the business sector. No, those arenas are specifically for the astrological, air, and energy witches. 

 

     In addition, there are gym-like structures on the outskirts of the school grounds for the water and nature witches and then huge, concrete and steel rooms below the school for the fire and shadow witches.

 

     Oikawa stares out at the faint shapes of the outdoor ones from here longingly.

 

     Right now, with a five-page essay to finish for his _Horticulture Through the Ages_ class, Oikawa really just either wants to take a nap or practice more. Unfortunately, the latter is impossible. The training arenas are strictly off-limits to the younger students unless they’re with a class and practicing any kind of spell-crafts outside of them or a classroom is banned.

 

     "I’ve got two pages," Oikawa grumbles at Nisshoku. "That’s not 'almost finished'."

 

     Nisshoku doesn’t bother responding, just huffs and nuzzles his big muzzle farther down into the rug, content to nap while the rest of them work.

 

     Oikawa lays back down despite Koushi’s sigh and shake of his head, and stares up again at the night sky, his mind wandering in the silence of the scratch of pens and the tapping of shoes.

 

     He thinks of home, of his family. Hana is probably peeved that Oikawa hasn’t gotten around to answering her long-ass text message from a week ago and his father is probably making up excuses for him.

 

     Oikawa grins a little at the thought, not quite homesick but still wishing that he could pop into their kitchen and spend a few hours relaying everything he’s learned so far, spend some time showing Takeru some of the little entertaining spells he now knows.

 

     Three weeks. 

 

     Oikawa’s mind wanders some more… that first night seems so long ago. Neither Ushijima or Daishō have made any moves since then to corner Oikawa and he’s wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if Ushijima had passed along his message.

 

_"I didn’t -"_

 

     Suddenly, an older memory is taking shape within Oikawa’s head. He sees a flash of Ushijima’s face, younger, and then of his own hands, bloody and scratched up. He hears the same two words, only this time they’re from a more distant past, spoken in the voice of a twelve year-old, and there’re more words following.

 

_"I didn’t mean what I said the other night. It was a mistake."_

 

     Oikawa sits up, knocking his thoughts from his head. He looks over at Keiji, who’s staring off into space as he thinks of something. Koushi sits nearby, his silver hair clashing with Keiji’s — light and dark. 

 

     As if they both sense him at the same time, Oikawa’s two friends look at him simultaneously.

 

     "Are you okay?" Koushi speaks first, eyebrows furrowing, the little splash of his beauty mark at the corner of his left eye crinkling. Keiji stops chewing on the end of his pen.

 

     Oikawa sighs, gets up and stretches, suddenly thrown back to three weeks ago in Keiji and Koushi’s room. His palms had been sweating back then like they are now.

 

     "I just have this feeling that something’s coming," he says without thinking and then realizes it’s the truth as soon as the words drop from his lips. Outside the bubble, other students hurry to and from hang-outs and study dates, sliding and slipping over the cold grass in their Doc Martens and hand-knit scarves. Oikawa watches them ebb and flow around the bubbles like the tide around crags of rock and then his eyes flick back down to his friends.

 

     Koushi raises an ashy eyebrow at the same time that Keiji digs his teeth into his bottom lip and for a moment Oikawa marvels at how the two seem to have swapped their usual reactions — as if they give and take from each other in even the smallest of things.

 

     "That’s ominous." Koushi closes the textbook balanced on his knee. "What kind of 'something', exactly?"

 

     Oikawa blows out a breath, his bangs ruffling. He sits back down, cross-legged with his palms pressed to the ground behind him to keep himself upright. He’s inwardly grateful that Koushi hadn’t asked him something like how much sleep he’s getting or if he’s still been having aftereffects of the illusions from their shared _The Art of Manipulation_ class.

 

     "I don’t know," he answers unhelpfully. "I mean, it’s not something I can put into words. It’s more of a feeling."

 

     The more he keeps talking, the more Oikawa feels like he’s right.

 

     "Okay, so have you had these feelings before?" Keiji asks, tapping his pen now against his bottom lip. "Like, I mean, I know that astrological witches sometimes have a talent for fortune telling. You know, like how energy witches sometimes develop an ability to immerse themselves in technology."

 

     Oikawa huffs out a small laugh. "Yeah, you’re right, but that’s more of my sister’s area of expertise. I only ever got feelings when something big was about to happen, like when my best friend’s house caught fire."

 

     Koushi’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "That’s reassuring," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at Briarwine as if expecting to see the towers near the top already engulfed in flames.

 

     "You know, it could be because of the rumors going around right now. They’ve even got the teachers on high alert," he continues, twisting back around and picking up Slange. It’s a nervous gesture that Oikawa recognizes.

 

     "Rumors?" Keiji and Oikawa ask at the same time and Koushi nods.

 

     "Sorry, I guess it hasn’t really spread out to the other witch classes yet, but since shadow and fire witches train together a lot, I’ve heard plenty."

 

     He takes a deep breath, stroking slim fingers down Slange’s back.

 

     "Apparently," Koushi starts, "there’s a shadow witch who’s been practicing magic way past their ability."

 

     "Who -," Oikawa starts, his interest immediately piqued. Without his consent, another flash of Ushijima’s face appears in his mind’s eye but Koushi shakes his head.

 

     "I don’t know. No one does. There are a lot of names being thrown around of course, and even the type of witch varies at times, but the only thing anyone knows for certain is that they’re a new student." He smiles wryly. "That’s the problem with rumors… they’re just that, rumors. Anyway, it still has everyone on edge. It’s dangerous, messing with magic you’re not ready for."

 

     Silence descends on the space. Oikawa watches a group of energy witches walk past, faces lit up by the artificial white glow of their cellphones.

 

     Koushi’s right. This familiar feeling of unease — the prickle like he’s being watched from the dark — could be linked to the rumors. Plus, in the past, just because Oikawa had gotten the feeling hadn’t meant anything. The future constantly shifted, changing course.

 

     "Well," he finally speaks, running a hand through his hair, "I don’t know about you two but I am officially done with homework for tonight. I think dinner is in order."

 

     Koushi, to Oikawa’s surprise, nods and begins to pack up his things, shoving textbooks and paper into his bag. "Yeah, I’m a little freaked out after all of this talk of bad premonitions and things catching on fire."

 

     Keiji gives his friend a sidelong glance, eyes bright. "You’re a fire witch, Kou," he points out. "If anything caught on fire you’d be the most safe."

 

     Koushi rolls his eyes, but the look on his face is grateful.

 

     Oikawa looks up as the two continue to talk, studying the edges and curves of Briarwine… and hoping desperately that this feeling will pass soon.


	4. a deal made by morning

"Fuck."

 

     Oikawa tips his bag upside down on his bed a few hours later that night, shaking out gum wrappers, little bits of paper, a shard of glass from one of his classes.

 

     His cellphone is missing.

 

_"I don’t remember the last time I saw it,"_ Nisshoku offers from his favorite spot on the window-seat before Oikawa can ask. 

 

     "I didn’t use it at dinner," Oikawa mumbles out loud, thinking back. No, the last time he had used it had been back in the study bubble outside, to text Hajime something about how his new "boarding school" was going.

 

     Oikawa flies down the narrow, damp steps to Keiji and Koushi’s room, not bothering to knock as he pushes open their door.

 

     "Hey, do either of you have my -," he starts… and then freezes dead in his tracks, shock washing cold and unexpected over his head.

 

     Keiji and Koushi are _kissing_.

 

     And in the split second before reality crashes back down — in that breath of time that hangs suspended in air, frozen — Oikawa sees everything. 

 

     The careful way Keiji has his hand splayed across Koushi’s jaw, tilting his head back. The lock of Koushi’s arms around Keiji’s waist and the flutter of his eyelashes at the intrusion. The press of their mouths to each other — extremely personal, the gesture so openly loving that Oikawa flushes deep and quick, his breath catching in his throat.

 

     And then the moment is over, shattering into a million pieces of confusion and fear and guilt.

 

     Keiji and Koushi spring apart, the blood draining from their faces. Oikawa looks down, suddenly completely unsure of what to do, what to say.

 

     "Tooru," Keiji says, his voice catching and Oikawa looks up, watching as Koushi’s eyes flick back and forth between Keiji and him, panic blooming in deep, dark colors in their depths.

 

     Keiji looks just as shaken, hand shaking visibly as he raises it. The door closes behind Oikawa with a soft click.

 

     "I -," Oikawa starts, but his mind is whirling, spinning, still trying to come to terms with what he’s just seen. "The Clave -," he tries again, but the words burn to ash in his throat.

 

     "Oh God," Koushi murmurs then. His mouth forms a hard, flat line now, his fingers curled into fists at his sides and something predatory glossing over his panic like a thin sheen of paint, ready to defend. "Tooru, you can’t… you have to forget…" Slange rises in front of him as he trails off, coiled and baring sharp fangs — his scales glisten like poison.

 

     "Everyone calm down." Keiji’s voice is quiet, low. He runs a hand through his hair. Lucy watches with wide silver eyes from one of the bedposts, wide awake and ready to fly if needed.

 

     "I’m not going to tell anyone," Oikawa interjects quickly, finally finding his words. "God, I would never, but the Clave -"

 

     He doesn’t finish his sentence but the meaning is clear. The Clave rules the witching world, no matter how backwards or wrong some of their ancient ideas still are. The Clave is the law. 

 

     And Oikawa knows all too well how they feel about same-sex relationships. 

 

     "Yeah, we know. Like I said before, there’re a lot of things the Clave doesn’t support." Keiji stays standing but his shoulders sag after he’s spoken, some of the tension leaking from the room.

 

     An awkward silence follows.

 

     "Look," Oikawa begins quietly, "I’m the last person you should worry about. I know we haven’t known each other for very long but I have no interest in girls."

 

     Koushi’s gaze snaps to him at that, eyes shining bright in the lamplight, as if he had been on the verge of crying. The sight sends a pang of pain through Oikawa’s chest. He hadn’t meant to cause such a panic but he can’t blame his friends for reacting the way they had.

 

     Keiji lets loose a breath, long and slow. "You never told us?" he says, almost as if to himself, but Oikawa smiles wryly.

 

     "Of course not," he answers and Keiji nods, realizing that it had been a stupid question given the circumstances. "I haven’t even told my family. Not because I’m afraid of rejection, but because they already have enough to worry about with my father."

 

     Koushi nods slowly too, looking up at Keiji.

 

     "I’m not going to push you for details either," Oikawa continues, shuffling awkwardly in place. "Sorry for just bursting in like that. I should’ve knocked."

 

     For the first time in the past five minutes Koushi smiles, albeit weakly. 

 

     "Don’t worry about it," he says, picking up Slange who continues to watch Oikawa with narrow, cold eyes. They remind him of the black stones on the beach back home — smooth, icy to the touch. "We forgot to lock it. After we’ve been so careful…"

 

     Belatedly, Oikawa realizes he’s right. He’d never noticed before but looking back now he can almost see how painfully cautious his friends have been this entire time, training themselves to avoid a slip of an affectionate word or gesture done in public.

 

     "So how long -," Oikawa starts before he remembers his promise not to pry. "Sorry, never mind."

 

     Keiji’s hand flits close to Koushi’s for a moment, as if he’s going to interlace their fingers — and then it drops. Old habits die hard, Oikawa guesses. With him here, the two of them are already back in their friends-only facade.

 

     "About two years." Keiji speaks low, as if he’s afraid someone else might be listening in. Koushi sits down on the edge of his bed.

 

     "Neither of our families know either," Koushi adds. "Although for different reasons than you," he explains, looking at Oikawa.

 

     Oikawa nods. 

 

     "Well," he says into the space of quiet after, "just because we’re in the same boat doesn’t mean I’ll allow gross PDA now during our study sessions in here."

 

     For a moment, both of his friends look taken aback and Oikawa bites his tongue. Maybe it hadn’t been the right time for a lighthearted joke after all.

 

     But then Koushi laughs, bright and loud. Keiji grins unabashedly. 

 

     Oikawa smiles back, albeit a bit wickedly. "Anyway, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone," he says slyly, ignoring Keiji’s small squawk of outrage. He pauses at the door.

 

     "Before I go though, has anyone seen my cellphone?"

 

 

 

The halls of Briarwine are dark and quiet at this time.

 

     Technically, Oikawa shouldn’t even be wandering around this late; but if he’s left his cellphone outside there’s a chance it’ll be covered in frost and ruined come morning. So he keeps going, walking carefully over the flagstones and ducking into the shadows any time he hears a noise.

 

     A few of the upperclassmen are still out — the ones with prefect status — but Oikawa somehow makes it past the dining hall and the gym without running into anyone. The chill of the late September night air runs glass-tipped fingernails over his skin as soon as he gets outside, but Oikawa is too engrossed with his thoughts to really notice the cold. 

 

_"Keiji and Koushi, huh?"_ is the most prominent one but somehow it makes sense. Oikawa feels like maybe he’s suspected something between them since that first day on the train, but that could also just be him fooling himself.

 

     Cold blades of grass tickle his ankles as he makes his way over the lawns, keeping an eye out for the gleam of plastic or the wink of glass on the ground. The only thing that meets his gaze, however, is green and the gray of the stone walkways. The bubble they had all been in earlier is empty as well, no sign of his phone anywhere. Oikawa curses inwardly.

 

_"Well, it’s probably inside at least,"_ he thinks, trekking slowly back over the ground he’d covered, rubbing at his arms under the thin sweater he has on. _"Or maybe it slid under my bed."_

 

     Whatever the case, the shadows are growing deeper and the witch-lights surrounding the school are winking out, one by one. Oikawa isn’t sure if the front doors are locked after a certain time, but he really doesn’t want to find out by getting locked out in the cold.

 

     He picks up the pace, sighing with relief when the doors give to his touch at the top of the school’s steps. His warm bed is calling to him now — phone be damned — but halfway to the dining hall, Oikawa hears voices.

 

     He edges into the small indent made by a classroom door, flattening himself to the wall and staying still.

 

_"More prefects, or professors,"_ his mind tells him, but at the same time there’s something else about the cadence of the voices — two of them, both male — that makes Oikawa’s spine straighten.

 

_"It can’t be…"_

 

     There’s only one way to find out, so slowly — since the voices don’t seem to be getting closer or farther away — Oikawa edges back into the main hall, walking quietly towards the noise. His nerves have jumped, anticipation fizzing in his stomach.

 

     It only takes a few strides down the hall for Oikawa to be within decent hearing range of the low, murmuring voices that he’s now sure belong to Ushijima Wakatoshi and Daishō Suguru.

 

_"Knew it,"_ he thinks triumphantly, but then he’s straining to hear, stopping in another shadowy corner.

 

     He’s not sure where the two are standing, but little snippets and snatches of conversation echo off of the stone walls and it’s clear from the tones that an argument is unfolding.

 

     "I told you…," he hears first, Daishō’s sticky-sweet drawl clear. "… but you’ve always… the wrong side…"

 

     The last three words are snarled, disdain clear even from Oikawa’s hiding spot.

 

     Ushijima’s voice follows, deep and steady, anger lashing through his tone. "I’ve always… my family’s side… and I fucking listened, I did what I had…"

 

     Oikawa frowns. His sneakers edge forward, his body moving as if on autopilot to get closer, to hear more. He’s heard Ushijima sound like this just once before in his life and while the words of the present echo around him, the words of the past threaten to break in as well, Ushijima’s younger voice reverberating in his ears.

 

_"It was a mistake. Your family and mine -"_

 

     Daishō’s low, mocking laugh breaks through Oikawa’s memories as he rounds a corner… and suddenly they’re there. Ushijima and Daishō stand facing each other in an open classroom, enshrouded in darkness. Oikawa holds his breath, halting where he is to avoid being seen.

 

     "Don’t fool yourself," Daishō sneers, running a hand through his dark hair and leaning back against a desk. "You only listened to your parents because you were afraid of what would happen to the Oikawas if you didn’t. Don’t act like your heart was truly in it."

 

     A bolt of shock rushes through Oikawa’s entire body then, his fingertips going numb and then ice-cold all at once. He barely contains the sharp inhale of breath his lungs flutter to take, eyes widening.

 

     Ushijima’s face is frozen, no words passing from between his lips and Daishō pushes off of the desk, straightening in one fluid motion.

 

     "Like I said," he purrs, turning away from his fellow shadow witch, "stay out of it. You’ve never had the spine for anything like this anyway."

 

     Oikawa regains his senses then, as if someone has tugged something loose in his chest, and pieces are clicking together in his head, fast and earth-shattering. There’s only one thing Daishō could’ve been talking about but Oikawa’s entire world is flipping upside down at the idea of it, to the point that he can’t really believe it’s true.

 

     He takes a step forward, emotion bubbling up in his chest — anger, disbelief, bewilderment. All of it clashes and collides like a train wreck and all Oikawa can think about is confronting Daishō and Ushijima, right now and right here. His lip curls, heart pounding fast and hard.

 

     Unfortunately, fate has other plans.

 

     "Hey! You’re not supposed to be out of bed!"

 

     Oikawa doesn’t even bother glancing over his shoulder towards the new voice — it doesn’t really matter if it’s a prefect or a professor, he’s in deep shit either way.

 

     Besides, he’s too busy watching both Daishō’s and Ushijima’s heads whip in his direction, their eyes landing on his half-hidden form and then on whoever’s behind him.

 

     "Tooru," Ushijima says. Two simple syllables and yet, right now with everything that’s just been hinted at, they hit Oikawa with a force that knocks the air from his lungs.

 

     And then Oikawa runs.

 

 

 

_"Fuck, fuck, fuck."_

 

     Oikawa tries to slow his breathing, chest rising and falling from sprinting down several long hallways.

 

     He’s lost.

 

     Briarwine looks a lot different at night than during the day…. not to mention the doors that like to sometimes switch places in the walls. So now Oikawa is undeniably lost.

 

     He’d lost the prefect/professor a while back, and he’s not sure what had happened to Daishō and Ushijima — but considering that they had been hidden in the depths of a classroom whereas Oikawa had been out in the open, he’s assuming they got away.

 

     He lets his head thump back against the wall he’s currently resting against, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

     What he’d overheard… it can’t be real.

 

_"You only listened to your parents because you were afraid of what would happen to the Oikawas if you didn’t. Don’t act like your heart was truly in it."_

 

_"What would happen to the Oikawas…,"_ Oikawa thinks. Did that mean that everything Ushijima had done, everything he’d said, had been…

 

     Oikawa’s eyes flash open, teeth digging into his lower lip. He gets to his feet.

 

     He can’t do this now. He can’t think about what Daishō’s admission means, not before he gets the chance to confront Ushijima directly.

 

     Besides, he needs to get back in his room before he gets caught and ends up with detention for a month.

 

     It takes a good ten or fifteen minutes of walking and creeping down stairwells before Oikawa finally recognizes his surroundings again. He’s back down on the first floor, close to the gym. Now all he has to do is climb back up to the tower his room is in — which is going to be another fifteen minutes of stairs.

 

     Oikawa sighs, his brief elation at not being lost anymore deflating.

 

_"At least I’ll have some good gossip for Koushi and Keiji…,"_ is all he can think tiredly, but then a flicker of movement catches his eye.

 

     He whirls around, waiting for another staff member to come yelling down the hall but instead his eyes land on a figure slipping through a large door near the dining hall — an unmistakable figure.

 

_"What the fuck is up with today?"_ is the first thing Oikawa thinks as his heart powers back into overdrive at the sight of Daishō Suguru sneaking through the doorframe. _"Why is he still here?"_

 

     No sooner are those thoughts through his head before a second figure appears, obviously trailing Daishō — and of course it’s none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

 

     Oikawa stands in rapt fascination at the new turn of events for about two seconds, disbelieving his luck at having been here at the right time.

 

     And then he’s following Ushijima’s shadow, pushing away every part of him that’s telling him that this isn’t a good idea.

 

 

 

The door, it turns out, leads to a set of spiraling stone stairs that dive into the depths of Briarwine.

 

     Oikawa tries to keep as much distance between himself and Ushijima’s shadow without losing sigh of it completely, but it’s tricky. Ushijima keeps stopping and starting, no doubt due to trying to follow Daishō just as covertly.

 

     The shadows begin to grow thicker the farther down they go, both a blessing and a curse. The air grows colder, more stale. Oikawa can smell the faint tang of iron and then something like burning sugar.

 

_"Magic,"_ he thinks. _"Of course. We’re headed for the training arenas."_

 

     It makes sense now. The lingering sweetness of spell-craft hangs heavy and cloying the farther down they go and suddenly Koushi’s words from earlier come floating back to him.

 

_"Apparently, there’s a shadow witch who’s been practicing magic way past their ability."_

 

     At the same moment, Daishō’s words to Ushijima in the dark classroom echo in Oikawa’s ears. 

 

_"You’ve never had the spine for anything like this anyway."_

 

     "No way," Oikawa murmurs to himself, pieces sliding together once more in his head.

 

_Daishō_ is the witch that the rumors are about. Daishō is practicing magic down here, magic he shouldn’t be messing with… unless there’s some other reason why he’s sneaking off to the training arenas this late at night.

 

     Oikawa quickens his pace — not just because he’s eager to keep up with Ushijima but because the feeling he’s been having for the past few weeks is back in full force. It hovers above his head like an axe waiting to drop.

 

_"What an idiot,"_ he thinks angrily. _"Even I wouldn’t do something like this."_

 

     Down, down, down the three of them keep going, until Oikawa’s ready to believe that the stairs never end and that he’s stuck in one endless loop. 

 

     He wishes suddenly that Nisshoku were here with him to tell him how utterly stupid that fear is… but he’s too far down to consider calling for his familiar, too far away for his voice to be heard. All around Oikawa the walls glisten with damp, gleaming like eyes in the dark.

 

     And once more, the overwhelming feeling that something is coming — something bad — sweeps over him, a tidal wave filled with dark, slimy things that hold the future in their cold eyes.

 

_"Fuck,"_ Oikawa thinks, realizing with a sudden jolt that he’s lost sight of Ushijima’s trailing shadow in his distraction. The stairs continue to yawn out in front of him, a wet, dark mouth, twisting, turning, never ending…

 

     Until he stumbles out onto a floor as he rounds the last tight, little twist, skidding to a stop and breathing hard.

 

     A sense of urgency, of panic, blooms in Oikawa’s chest. He needs to find them but the floor he’s on now is empty and there are several different hallways and doors in front of him, a labyrinth beneath the school.

 

     "Shit," he curses — out loud this time. He doesn’t care anymore if Ushijima or Daishō knows he’s here, that he followed them. 

 

     All Oikawa knows is that the wave is towering, stretching, building over his head and that this time it’s not going away. The entire weight of an ocean balances on the edge of a knife.

 

     Oikawa begins to run. His lungs burn from the stairs and his legs ache but he runs nonetheless, driven by a fear with no tangible cause.

 

     The walls whip past him. His sneakers pound against stone.

 

     And as he runs, the tattered past rises up out of his alarm in snippets, like a ghost drug up from its grave.

 

_"Your family and mine… completely different."_

 

_"What are you saying? I thought we were…"_

 

_"Friends? You actually believed… non-witch… it’s pathetic…"_

 

_"I can’t believe that I actually thought… different from the rest…"_

 

     Oikawa shoves the memory of his own voice from his head violently. _"Now’s not the time."_

 

     He reaches the end of the main hall, head whipping around. They couldn’t have gone too far. He had only lost Ushijima for a few minutes at the most on the stairs. There’s no way -

 

     A shout crashes through Oikawa’s thoughts, his heart leaping up into his throat at the raw panic of the sound.

 

     There’s no time to think. All Oikawa can do is turn on his heel and sprint for the noise, dashing down a narrower side hall, the air dry in his lungs.

 

     "Wakatoshi!" The name slips from his lips, echoes off the dark walls. _"Oh God,"_ some other part of him whispers. _"Oh God, what’s going to happen?"_

 

     And then he sees it. A bright flare of light.

 

     At first, it seems to rush up from the very foundation of Briarwine itself, as if the light is seeping up through the ground, bleeding up through the stones… but then Oikawa sees it, a door swung wide on its hinges at the very end of the corridor. 

 

     And, more importantly, a very bright, very tall column of burning black flames in the middle of the room beyond.

 

     Oikawa is flying across the ground before his eyes fully register the sight. He trips, stumbles, tastes ash and sugar on his tongue.

 

     The flames grow larger as he gets closer, a dry gust of wind unfurling down the passage and stinging at his eyes.

 

     Koushi’s worry of fire has come true.

 

     As Oikawa stumbles to a stop in the doorway of the room, he sees two things at once.

 

     The first is Daishō, head thrown back, kneeling on one side of whatever the towering, ebony column is made of — not flames, like Oikawa had first thought, but shadow. Flickering, coiling, writhing around and around itself, burning with that odd light from the inside out.

 

     The second is Ushijima, one arm thrown up to cover his face as he takes determined steps closer to the raging storm in front of him — closer to Daishō.

 

     "Wakatoshi!" Oikawa yells again, but his voice is snatched away by the great gusts of burning air sweeping through the training arena.

 

     So, against his baser instincts, Oikawa steps farther into the room, edging his sneakers over the concrete floor, shielding his face with a sleeve as his hair flies around his head.

 

     It’s obvious that whatever Daishō had been planning on doing has gone horribly wrong.

 

     Even from here Oikawa can see the way his eyes have gone blank and dark, staring unseeing up at the ceiling, his teeth dug so hard into his bottom lip that blood runs in black, thin streams down his chin and neck.

 

     And the magic in here is suffocating — it claws its way down Oikawa’s throat every time he inhales, sticks saccharine-sweet to his tongue and threatens to drown him.

 

     "Waka-," he tries once more, still edging into the room, but it’s no use. Even if he could unstick his tongue, the gales of force snapping and screaming all around them cut off all other sound.

 

_"Shit,"_ is all Oikawa can think. His mind races, heart beating like a trapped thing right below his collarbones.

 

     Should he turn back, run to find a professor?

 

     Or should he try to reach Ushijima, see if he can help?

 

     The latter doesn’t seem plausible. This is shadow witch magic, something Oikawa is unfamiliar with. He doesn’t even know -

 

     Something catches his eye then, as Ushijima grows steadily closer to Daishō, oblivious to Oikawa’s presence.

 

     It’s Daishō’s hands, resting palms up on either side of him, arms wrapped halfway around the column of magic.

 

_"An energy summons,"_ Oikawa thinks, something clicking into place at the sight as he freezes in his steps. It’s a universal spell among witches but if it weren’t for the twin, black marks he can now see on Daishō’s palms, Oikawa wouldn’t have recognized it at all. It’s a spell only practiced by the most advanced… and it’s never, ever done alone.

 

     The circle has been broken, that much is certain. Whatever grip Daishō may have had on it at first is lost, his hands parted from each other.

 

     Oikawa’s blood runs cold then, as he realizes something else. Suddenly, the blankness in Daishō’s eyes has a much more frightening reason behind it.

 

     The spell, with no circle to curb and channel its energy, is draining Daishō himself.

 

     He’s dying, right in front of their eyes.

 

_"He won’t last much longer,"_ Oikawa’s thoughts say numbly, sluggish and thick. _"Run, get help._ Run! _"_

 

     Oikawa’s entire body jerks as the last word is nearly shouted inside his head, turning to run for the open door.

 

     But Ushijima’s figure catches his eye first.

 

     And then all Oikawa can do is watch — watch with slowly dawning horror as Ushijima finally reaches Daishō and drops to his knees, his own arms outstretched, hands reaching, reaching…

 

     Oikawa finds his voice then. It rips up his throat, a scream born from knowing what’s about to happen next and knowing, also, that it’s too late to stop it.

 

     "Wakatoshi, _don’t_ -"

 

     Three things happen then, one right after the other, a domino effect of destruction.

 

     Ushijima’s hands grab Daishō’s, completing the circle.

 

     The tidal wave over Oikawa’s head comes crashing down as terror and pain and a future come true surge into his heart.

 

     And finally, the entire room explodes outward, the world turning very bright and then very dark and then silent, the three of them lost in the quiet.

 

 

 

Pain.

 

     It sits on Oikawa’s chest, hard and heavy. It’s the first thing he notices as his eyes flicker open.

 

     The next is the whiteness all around him. White sheets, white pillows, white curtains.

 

     And finally, the smell of antiseptic, of bleach, raw and stinging in his nose.

 

     The infirmary. There’s no doubt that that’s where he is.

 

     Oikawa blinks up at high, vaulted ceilings, focuses first on running his tongue over his teeth. They’re stale, dry, but as he breathes in, the only thing that fills his lungs is cool, fresh air.

 

     Flashbacks and the echoing smell of iron and blood, of sugar and fire, come back to him slowly, drifting through sleep-heavy thoughts.

 

     There’s no doubt that some kind of pain medication is dripping through his veins because as Oikawa struggles to wake up fully, he shifts and the pain that knocks through what must be pretty battered ribs intensifies quickly.

 

     He catches his breath, goes still once more.

 

_"Ushijima,"_ is his first coherent thought after a few minutes leak past. And then, _"Daishō."_

 

     Peeling his eyes open again, Oikawa looks around. The haze of the drugs is beginning to dull the more he lies here, and slowly he’s able to remember everything.

 

     Urgency washes afresh over him, but it’s quelled before it can get too far — there, on two beds on either side of him are two people that Oikawa had never imagined he would be this happy to see.

 

     Ushijima’s eyes are already open when Oikawa finds his face. Exhaustion swims in their depths as he notices Oikawa’s movement and looks over.

 

     For a moment, Oikawa has no idea what to say… and then it comes to him, easy.

 

     "Are you stupid?"

 

     The words rasp up his throat and Oikawa swallows hard. Relief flows through him with a frightening intensity.

 

     Ushijima doesn’t answer at first, but then he nods.

 

     And then, "I lost my spell-craft."

 

     Oikawa blinks.

 

     Ushijima says the words so casually, so simply, that for a moment Oikawa is sure he’s misheard.

 

     But the other witch looks at him then and Oikawa knows that no mistakes were made. Not in this room, at least.

 

     "How do you know?" he asks, a strange mix of emotions beating in his chest, dulled by the meds. This is not one of the outcomes he had thought about, down there in that dark, damp place — but a price had to be paid and Oikawa is just thankful that it hadn’t included a life, no matter how wrong and ugly and horrible Ushijima’s words sound to him right now.

 

     "I can’t feel it anymore." Ushijima looks back up at the ceiling. The outline of his face is engraved by the silver of the moon from the window. 

 

     Oikawa stares at him, his pulse beating like the slow flap of bird wings in his ears, struggling to take it all in… and an idea begins to take form in his mind. An absolutely crazy idea.

 

     But as Nisshoku’s voice suddenly pounds through his head — someone must’ve been holding him back from the infirmary by the sound of his now clear, angry rant — and as the doors to the infirmary at the far end of the room suddenly burst open, Zinnia appearing in a flurry of golden feathers above an unmistakable fire and nature witch duo and a growling, pissed-off wolf, Oikawa says it out loud.

 

     "I’ll help you," he says to Ushijima, voice weak but steady and deadly serious. "I’ll help you get your magic back. But in return, you’re going to tell me everything."

 

     He doesn’t elaborate on the "everything" but as Ushijima’s dark eyes meet his own once more, Oikawa knows that he doesn’t have to. This moment hangs between them, intertwined with the past and the present, something private and personal passing through the blue-light of morning as the sun crests the horizon and the stars wink from existence.

 

     And in that moment, in that space that holds only the two of them right before Oikawa’s friends and their familiars crash into it, Ushijima takes a breath… and he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a continuation of this fic eventually (when I get the time lol) so stay tuned for more UshOi magic ♥︎
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Feel free to leave comments/kudos to your heart's content (｡◝‿◜｡)
> 
> Until then, my blog can be reached [hereeeee](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


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